


Cry Hallelu, Caged Lion!

by MaxStef



Category: Original Work
Genre: ANyway we'll see if I actually finish this :-), Character Death, Heteronormativity, I ain't on no blood libel shit, I think I get this across in the story but I wanted to be clear in my tags, Internalized Homophobia, Judaism, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Secret Relationship, Specifically 1600s Sofia Bulgaria, To be clear they vampire stuff is a metaphor for their sexuality not their Jewishness, Vampires, he gets better though, medieval setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 10:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17723702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxStef/pseuds/MaxStef
Summary: Ariel and Ezra are trying very hard to be good sons, to do all that's expected of them, but it's 1613 here, in the Jewish corner of Sofia, and they never planned to fall in love.





	Cry Hallelu, Caged Lion!

Ariel was aptly named. Lion of God.  
Lion indeed.  
Anyone could tell you how arrogant he was, how stubborn, no matter how much he was scolded for it. Lofty, unrelenting Ariel. No one could hope to bring him down to Earth, it seemed.  
No one but Ezra.  
Ezra had a way with him. His soft voice, his gentle touch, his brown eyes, fond and pleading, were the tools of a lion-tamer.  
Ariel softened for him, and him alone.  
They were inseparable.  
Their parents laughed about it. It was cute to them, amusing, to see them always together. Always one following the other. “The twins,” they sometimes called them, “just like brothers.”  
Ariel would glower over this, and when they were out of earshot he would say, maybe a bit more bitterly than intended, “You're not my brother.”  
And Ezra would nod, and say, “I know this,” because he'd heard it countless times, now, or sometimes, “And you're not mine,” because he didn't want to be Ariel’s brother either.  
Though neither could put his finger on why.  
Or, at least, they didn't, until a summer night in their adolescence, where the sun had beat down all day with an intensity, and the streets outside had burned. When the two lay down side-by-side on the floor of Ariel's home, and watched one another, and wished it wasn't so hot.  
When Ariel rested his head across Ezra's torso, despite the heat, though this was not unusual of him, and Ezra absently twined his fingers into his friend’s hair, and he thought of the marriage his parents were already trying to arrange for Ariel's sister, Carmela, and then he thought of marriage in general, and all at once it dawned on him, and he said it:  
“I wish I could marry you.”  
For a moment, they both stopped breathing.  
Then, slowly, Ariel told him, “I do, too.”  
So, there it was. The truth that had been there all along. Once they'd admitted it, there really was no returning.  
And now their minds swam with more questions than before. Fears and apprehensions. Was this condoned? How much could they lose? What would people think? And so what to do? What to do?  
Oh woe.  
They were too young for worries like these, but here they were, having them. Hands intertwining by instinct, searching for solace, and hoping to give it.  
Inseparable. Still.  
So, if no one could know, it would be theirs alone, this feeling, this being, and they would save it for the shadows, and the corners where no one looked, and in the light, be as before, as was expected. This they were capable of. This they had already been doing unconsciously for so long, it was already second nature.  
Hiding is a skill all boys like them must cultivate early.  
Hiding only hurts more the longer one must do it.  
But still… But still… Those moments made it survivable. Those moments where hands brushed, and glances were shared, and laughter, where the secret was almost fun instead of burdensome, as long as one could push the threat out of his mind.  
Moments and moments to live on.  
Moments could never be enough. Not when they wanted so much more. When they wanted to reach for one another, and hold, and give, and take, and know, like in the Torah.  
But the Torah also spoke of how wrong this was, this thing they wanted, between men, between boys. Ariel checked, and checked again, and the texts had not changed the second time.  
“Maybe it's not one of the important rules,” Ezra bargained, “maybe it's not so bad to break, as long as we're good otherwise.”  
“That’s not how it works, we can't pick and choose!” Ariel countered. Of course. Halakhah is halakhah.  
“Maybe what really matters is happiness. Maybe it's acceptable to bend the rules in search of that. Maybe it's not rigid.” Maybe, maybe, maybe.  
“What if murder makes you happy?” Ariel asked, “can you bend the rules to pursue that?”  
Ezra hesitated, and looked at him with pain in the eyes. “I don't think loving you is murder,” he said, “I don’t think- I don’t think-”  
They were hiding behind the houses today, whispering, praying no one could hear.  
And Ariel wanted so badly to cry, because he had fallen in love, but he didn't have the words for it, and he couldn't, even if he did, this wasn't meant to be. This was wrong and he was wrong for wanting it.  
And Ezra did cry, because he knew all this, too. No matter how much he wanted to rationalize, he knew.  
This was wrong, wrong, wrong.  
He broke down to the Earth and hoped it would take him, into the dirt and the soil, but he only met stone pavement, and Ariel's arms that reached to catch him. And Ariel's hands that took his face. And Ariel's lips that kissed his cheeks and murmured, “Hush, Ezra,” and so sweetly, “I love you,” again and again in spite of himself.  
All conviction melted for Ezra. Anything for Ezra. Everything for Ezra.  
Maybe for Ezra he could… Maybe for Ezra…  
For this all hurt too much, not only to watch those tears fall but to find himself in every one of them. To know when he stared into this face he held so dear, that he was looking into a mirror. To see how miserable they were, together, and for what?  
So, maybe for Ezra this was defensible. Maybe for this, they could be forgiven.  
Ariel hoped so, he prayed so, as he brought his mouth to Ezra's, and breathed him in, oh, beautiful weeping boy, I'm sorry. Until Ezra let him in, and brought his hand up around the back of his head, clinging fast to black curls.  
Neither of them had ever kissed anyone like this before. They moved awkwardly, without grace, or skill, but what did they care? It was them, together. Complete and breathless and heart-stopping and heart-swelling and over too quickly, when they both remembered again who they were, and what they were doing.  
And the Torah said, and the rabbis said, and The Lord said…  
And Carmela said, out the window, “Ariel, where are you? It’s time for dinner!”  
So, he stood, wiped off his face, planted one final kiss on Ezra’s forehead, and left. Inside, to his family.  
No one would know.  
But perhaps it’s worse once one is aware of exactly what he’s missing.

**Author's Note:**

> I have way more of this written already but I can't guarantee when I'll post it because I need some time to edit it (read: fix it.) Bear with me!


End file.
